An Odd Note For Someone Named Hosen

Who are these lug nuts? Who are these featherweights? Who are these slum bums? Who are these cretins? Who are these dimwits? Who are these bird brains? Who are these crumb critters? Who are these sad sacks? Who are these dullards? Who are these rum raisins? Who are these nincompoops? Who are these louts? Who are these Jim Dandies? Who are these meat heads? Who are these brow beaters? Who are these fuddy duddies? They all live in my bones And sing like Tom Jones. We are the chosen. Later, Hosen.